


Mirage

by nycz



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nycz/pseuds/nycz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even bright, beautiful days can bring up bad memories and old wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> If the tags wasn't clear enough, this is angst. Nothing graphic though. Also a hint of fluff. But mostly just aaaangst. Don't wait up for a happy ending.

It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and the Moors was bustling with life. Spring was finally turning into summer and every manner of creature had gotten out to enjoy the lovely weather. Wallerbogs were playing in the mud, water sprites were dancing across the lakes and ponds, even the stoic border guards seemed more relaxed than usual.

Maleficent sat under her rowan tree, a mild smile on her face. Despite the years that had passed since her dark reign, the sight of the Moors bright and alive never failed to lift her spirits. 

"No fair!"

The sound of splashes and carefree laughter pulled Maleficent's attention to one of the creeks below, where a young girl was playing in the water with the other residents of the Moors.

"No magic!" the girl cried between giggles as some of the water faeries flung large droplets of water at her with their magic. "Play fair or I'm calling Maleficent!" Despite her words, both she and the others merely laughed as they continued their assault on each other, splashing and throwing water as best they could.

Her lips curling up in a smirk, Maleficent stood and stretched her wings. Long gone were the days when the other faeries feared her, but that certainly didn't mean she didn't have some intimidating qualities left. With a swift push of her wings, she jumped off the cliff and dropped down to the creek, landing gracefully at the shore.

"Hah!" the girl exclaimed triumphantly as her opponents paused their attack, waiting for Maleficent to make her move.

"Did I hear that someone was using magic against this poor, helpless girl?" Maleficent asked, an eyebrow raised. "That is simply unacceptable." With a barely noticeable twist of her fingers, she sent a large wave of water barreling towards the faeries, soaking them all thoroughly.

The girl grinned smugly when the faeries huffed and left to find someplace to dry. "I warned you," she taunted them. She gave them one last victorious look and then skipped over to Maleficent on light feet.

"Always the graceful winner, I see," Maleficent noted with barely hidden amusement. "I'm sure your advisers have told you that's hardly acceptable behavior for royalty."

The girl just shrugged and plopped down on a nearby log, patting the spot beside her. "Well, they're not here to see me, are they?"

"I suppose not." Maleficent sat down next to her, curling her wing around the girl's smaller frame.

"I don't care for them much anyway," the girl muttered, squeezing the water out of her long hair. "I'd much rather be here with you."

"It is your people. They need you."

Huffing, the girl scooted closer to Maleficent, molding herself to Maleficent's side. "There are plenty of other who would be much better suited."

"And plenty who would do a much worse job." The words were said without inflection, but there was still a hint of something there – something dark and painful – that Maleficent couldn't hide.

"I know." Silence fell as they both mulled over what had been said. Finally, the girl spoke again, her voice softer than before and her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry if I..." The words faded away as she couldn't get herself to finish the sentence. Looking up, she wore an odd, almost pitying expression. "Are you thinking about–"

"Yes." It was short and clear, like a clean wound from a newly-sharpened knife. Even so, they both knew how different the pain behind the word was. Still raw and infected, it was at best a dull throbbing that Maleficent wasn't sure she would ever lose.

"I'm sorry," came the quiet response. "I keep forgetting... it seems so long ago for me, but for you it must feel so close, still."

Maleficent wasn't sure if it was the time of year, the feeling of the warm body against her side, or even the smell of the Moors this day, but something pierced her defenses and made her walls crumble. "It's not your fault, Beastie," she mumbled, mustering a faint smile as her eyes lingered on the horizon. "Some things are harder to move past than others." She swallowed and let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into the log's rough bark.

"I wish I could do something," the girl said. "I wish you wouldn't be reminded of– of _that_ every time you saw me." She shook her head angrily, clenching her fists. "It's not _fair_. Just because of my blood – just because of who my family is, looking at me will always bring you pain."

Blinking away tears she didn't remember that she had shed, Maleficent turned to the girl. "Don't say that, little one," she said, cupping the girl's cheek. "Looking at you brings up memories, yes, but that is merely a small part of what I see." She smiled as the girl met her eyes, even as she saw her own sadness mirrored in the girl's gaze. "You bring light everywhere you go and to everyone you meet. You make people smile and you brighten their lives. _That_ is what I see – not ghosts from the past." Her smile turned wistful and she let out a sad chuckle. "It's just... sometimes when the memories return I can't push them away as easily as usual."

"It's not fair," the girl whispered, her usually so bright eyes glazing over with anguish. "You shouldn't have to live like that." She shook her head again, her long locks tumbling wildly around her shoulders. "The others may not be able to see it, but I do. It's– it's like there's a part of you missing. You're not _whole_. You try to act like you're fine but you're not." It was posed as a statement but the question was clear in her eyes.

"No," Maleficent breathed, brows knitted together in pain as another tear made its way down her cheek. "I'm not. I don't know if I'll ever be." She wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her into a gentle embrace as she cried, the girl's body shaking with sobs. Even though she seemed happy and carefree most of the time, the girl's big heart was easily weighed down by the pain of those she loved, despite how much Maleficent wanted to shield her from it. 

They sat on that log, huddled together, as the sun slowly made its way down in the west. Eventually, the girl's sobs turned to sniffles and her sniffles turned to shivers as the warm afternoon changed into a chilly evening.

"It's getting late," Maleficent murmured, giving the girl a gentle squeeze.

"I suppose so." The girl sighed and slowly untangled herself from Maleficent's embrace. "I'm... I'm sorry for ruining the evening."

"It's quite alright," Maleficent replied with a faint but genuine smile. "Would you prepare dinner for us? I'll be there as soon as the sun has set."

The girl looked poised to say something, but then changed her mind and nodded. "Sure." Her eyes were still tinged with sadness as Maleficent stood and turned, heading further into the Moors.

It didn't take long for Maleficent make her way through the forest, ending up on a small hill with a large, old oak tree on top with gnarly roots that spread out all over the clearing. It was said that the tree was one of the Moors' earliest inhabitants – perhaps a border guard of old – but all Maleficent knew for sure was that it had been there long before she had existed. It was a calm, soothing place for many in the Moors – an unchanging place in a world that was anything but static – but to Maleficent it had always meant pain. Not necessarily violent, burning pain, but instead the longing, the heart wrenching feeling of being left behind, of being still while everything else moved. Yet the pain was comfortable in a way.; it was something she had always known, ever since she was little. It hurt, but it was safe; it was familiar.

She sat down by the tree, resting her back against the thick trunk. The hill was just high enough that she had a perfect view of the setting sun and she couldn't help but marvel at the vibrant colors of the evening sky: blue and pink, orange and purple. It was beautiful and perfect and it only worsened the pain.

It wasn't until the sun finally set and the sky turned dark that she let her control slip, curling up against the tree as sobs racked her body. She wailed into the night, her voice broken from the sorrow that never ceased to torment her. The girl was right; it wasn't _fair_. Maleficent turned her head and looked down on the flat, moss covered stone next to her through tear filled eyes. Even after all these years, she still couldn't completely make herself believe it. How could something as mundane – as _dead_ – as a simple rock be all that was left of someone that had been so vibrant and so full of life?

Some human myths spoke of soulmates: people who held parts of the same soul, people who wouldn't be complete without each other. Even when they died, they would find each other in later lives, destined to be together forever.

People always spoke with joy about finding their soulmate, but Maleficent could only think of the anguish of losing them.

Perhaps one day you'll heart will heal, some said. Perhaps one day your soulmate will come back to you, in another form, just like in the tales.

Perhaps one day it wouldn't just be a haunting memory, seen in the eyes of that young girl that looked so much like _her_.

Perhaps she could be whole again.

Maleficent never dared to hope.

Wiping away her tears with her sleeve, she reached down and picked up a wilted flower, coaxing it to life again with a gentle urging of her magic. It grew into a beautiful white flower, matching the color of the rising moon. She put it down carefully at the base of the stone, feeling more tears rise behind her eyes. Swallowing another sob, she let her fingers follow the letters inscribed in the rock, whispering two words quietly into the night.

" _Goodnight, Beastie._ "

**Author's Note:**

> I intentionally left a lot open for interpretation. I hope it wasn't too vague.


End file.
